Page 20 of To Dance with a Devil

“Well, it’s good to know my entertainment value is still high, if nothing else.”

“Oh, no it isn’t,” she said with a mournful sigh. “You’ve been the model of propriety these past weeks, and deadly dull. What has got into you?”

“I don’t know.” Jerome shrugged and obediently turned as Helena drew him over to look in a shop window. “My brother rang a peal over me recently and I promised him I’d do better, so there’s that, but….”

“But?” she asked, dragging her gaze from a rather bizarre confection of lace and frills that seemed to be the latest thing in ladies’ bonnets.

“But… I don’t know,” he admitted. What else could he say? That he felt adrift? That his life was an endless succession of grey days, each one blending into the next as boredom stifled him to death? That he missed his friend?

A pair of laughing eyes and the wicked flash of dimples flickered in his mind and he sighed. He felt Helena studying him.

“Ennui,” she said, diagnosing him with a quirk of her lips. “I should know. I have a terminal case myself.”

“What do we do about it?” he asked, praying she had an answer for him.

She rolled her eyes again and Jerome suspected any fellow seriously wanting to court Helena Adolphus would need a strong personality and a vast ego, or he’d be a broken man within a week.

“If I knew that, I’d not be here with you, now would I?” she retorted.

Jerome laughed. Though he’d rather stick pins in his eyes than marry her, he rather liked Helena Adolphus. She was good company, in a brutal, rather painful way.

“Fair point.”

She grinned at him and turned back to the bonnet. “What do you think of it?” she asked, turning her head this way and that.

“An abomination,” he replied.

“Yes,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I thought so too.”

“What now, then?”

He waited while she considered, pursing her lips. “When in doubt, eat large quantities of cake. Take me home. I have it on good authority that cook made scones this morning and her blackberry conserve is a thing of beauty. We shall smother our boredom with cream and jam.”

“I can do that,” Jerome replied, relieved that he didn’t have to pretend to court her anymore. As they walked on, the thought drifted into his mind that he would have liked to take Bonnie to Gunter’s. Goodness, but she liked cake and sweet things. He could just see her expression when faced with all the delicious confections that the elegant shop offered.

She would….

He stopped himself before the daydream could take hold. That was over. She’d said so, and she’d been right. He’d known she was right.

And yet….

***

24th October 1814. St James, London.

“What the devil is it, Thomas?” Jerome muttered, as his valet woke him from an uneasy dream. It had taken him hours to fall asleep last night and now he felt heavy eyed and irritable. “Good Lord, man. What time is it?”

“Beg pardon, sir. It’s not yet eight o’clock but there’s a young lady downstairs who’s demanding to see you right away. She says how it’s an emergency.”

Jerome was awake in an instant, his heart pounding. Oh, Lord. Bonnie. “What young lady?” he demanded, throwing back the covers.

“A Miss Stone, sir.”

Jerome paused, frowning and trying to place the name. Damnation. Ruth Stone. Bonnie was staying with Ruth. “Hurry, Thomas,” Jerome instructed as both he and his valet flew into action.

Ten frantic minutes later, still buttoning his waistcoat, Jerome ran down the stairs and into the parlour, where he found an agitated Miss Stone waiting for him.

“What’s happened?” he demanded, with none of the niceties a gentleman ought greet a lady with.